Oh My Dear
by CheekyBrunette
Summary: Artie didn't know what to expect after 21 missed calls from a certain Sam Evans. Needless to say, he got more than he bargained for.  Yes, it's a weird pairing, but no obligations!


**Kay, so I really love this song, and because of that, I might just write, like, three song fics for it. NBD… One Sartie, one BTR, and one Klaine. Maybe 4 to have a BBxRob cause I'm crazy, and I love this THAT much. It's so inspiring… so yeah. Be prepared for a lot of crazy stuff going down. Different confessions, different generes, and different stories all with the same EPIC skeleton.**

**BTW, this song is "Oh My Dear" by Tenth Avenue North, and I could freaking melt into it. I cry every time, but it also makes me beyond happy. SO LETS DO THIS!**

_I called you up; you were in bed,_

Artie rubbed his eyes blearily. It was only eleven thirty at night, but it might as well have been four in the morning. He had been playing video games for the past six hours, and something about backlit screens could seriously suck the energy out of him. No matter how many nights he spent staring at the computer or television as he got his Pottermore or Skyrim on, he just couldn't seem to build up an endurance for that dried out feeling his eyes always got after a good six hours.

He settled into his bed with no small effort and snagged his phone to check if he had any messages before calling it in. With a bit of alarm, Artie noted he had twenty-one missed calls, all from Sam Evans. One or two calls from the blonde wouldn't have been unheard of, the two succeeding in becoming near as close as Britney and Santana were. But twenty-one? That was the number of calls you got from your mom when your grandma died in the middle of a school day. Obviously, something was wrong, so despite the late hour, Artie's fingers fumbled over his keypad. Sam answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Sam, you there?" Artie asked after what felt like an eternity of him waiting for the other boy to say something. The sound of a clearing throat cackled over the line, followed by a few sniffs.

_Could barely make out the words that you said,_

"'Mm here," Sam answered, his voice sounding raw and… _wet_, like he had been crying. Artie tried not to freak out, though this conversation didn't appear to be going anywhere good, but it felt like someone was squeezing his heart, he was so panicked. His chest constricted.

"Yo, is everything okay?" he asked, his brain going into overdrive when the sound of a barely suppressed sob managed to work it's way to his ear. He bit his lower lip. "Sam, are you still there? Are you good?"

"_No_," Sam answered after what Artie deemed an entirely too long time for him to respond. His voice sounded near pitiful, and Artie propped himself up on one arm with the phone pressed to his ear as he reached across himself to flip on his bedside table lamp. "I-I don't…" the upset teen started but broke off into something unintelligible. Artie scrubbed the exhaustion away from his face and took a deep breath.

_But you wanted to see me instead, so I got dressed._

"Sam, I need you to calm down and talk to me, okay?" he instructed, trying to keep his cool. Ugh, he wasn't good at this comforting business. He was on the receiving end of it a lot, but what person would seek solace from a cripple? Um, no one, that's who. Plus, Artie didn't like being serious like this. It was too… real. He didn't want to be real. Everything is better in Lalaland where the world is easier to deal with and made of sugar. You didn't have to face your problems when things weren't real, and he liked that.

"Can you c'me o'er?" Sam practically gargled through the phone, and that's all it took for Artie to be pushing himself out of bed and into his chair, a feat performed beautifully despite only having one hand. He grimaced down at his pajama pants, but left them be, shrugging on the parka he had hanging over the footboard of his bed.

"Sure thing, I'm on my way, man. Do you want me to stay on the line?" he asked, worried Sam was about to do something stupid and figuring it would be best if he didn't 'leave him alone'. He struggled to cram some shoes on his feet, but settled for an easy to slip on pair of slippers.

"Yeah."

_And I stepped out into the snow, _

Artie let himself out the back door of his house, the cold winter wind smacking him in the face before he had even opened it enough for him to get through. He winced at the creaking sound it made, knowing his parents would question his leaving if he woke them up, and with the way Sam sounded over the phone? Yeah, that wouldn't do. This felt a bit too… _urgent_ for long explanations. Plus, it wasn't really his place to talk about the emotional status of someone else, even if it was to his parents and that someone had called him to come over in the middle of the night. All that, and it would be awkward with Sam still on the line.

He wheeled himself down the ramp, struggling to hold the phone to his ear as he used both arms to push himself as fast as he could. "Okay, man. Out the door, I'll be right there," he assured the blonde, deciding it best to leave out the fact that he was going to be making his own way to his house with no way to drive or get a ride. He started the journey to the Hummel-Hudson's house.

_And walked for a mile or so,_

Kurt's and Finn's house was a long way from his own. Not that it was a big deal, but it was probably going to take him a while to get there. Sam was clearly trying to keep himself together over the phone, but it was kind of pointless. It didn't matter that Artie couldn't _hear_ the tears rushing down his cheeks; he knew they were there. He briefly wondered why the two other boys at the house weren't comforting him, but figured it might have something to do with Sam feeling too awkward to have them see him upset. He wheeled through the snow.

"Are you doing good?" he asked, scared that if he didn't keep checking up on Sam, the other boy would feel even more alone than he probably already did struggling not to cry on his own in the guest room of a strange house. He readjusted the phone on his shoulder.

"Yeah."

_Felt the rush of blood come from the cold in my chest._

"Awesome, I'm almost there."

Ice lined the sidewalks, making his wheels loose traction at spots. Slush sloshed through his spokes, coming up and around and falling through his fingers, along with gravel from the road. His nose crinkled a bit, and he regretted not tugging on his gloves during his hasty rush out the door. Every now and then, a surprisingly strong gust of wind would knock him into the back of his chair.

His skin felt hot, however, despite the bitter cold, like he was embarrassed or feverish. His heart was pounding a bit harder than usual. Seriously? Did other high school students have to deal with stuff like this? Or was the scary stuff reserved for the McKinley glee club students? His chest felt warm, his heart working furiously inside.

_Well, you finally came to the door_

Artie rolled around the back of the house, waiting outside the sliding glass door of the kitchen. Past visits to the Hummel-Hudson household had taught him well. "Kay, I'm here. Come open the back door," he told Sam over the phone, and he caught his shadow rising and disappearing as he obviously got up off his bed and walked out of the guest room to come meet him in an upstairs window. Artie jittered in his seat, but not because of the cold.

Finally, Sam appeared. He pivoted at the bottom of the stairs, wiping tears from his cheeks furiously, but Artie could still see the salty tracks left behind as he came closer. Once again, his heart clenched. He knew he probably looked like a scared puppy as Sam wordlessly let him in, clicking off his phone, but he felt like one, so he let it slide.

_And we talked for an hour or more,_

"Hey," Artie greeted him.

"Hey," Sam answered, and naturally there was an extremely long awkward pause. The taller boy looked at his toes, kicking at the floor a bit and appearing extremely uncomfortable. Artie just waited for him to make his move, trying to be as prepared as possible for anything. Eventually, he looked up at him, blue eyes shining from underneath his matted, blond bangs. "Wanna play Mario Kart?" he asked, and Artie let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"Sure," he answered, feeling a bit peely-wally but was determined not to let it show. Apparently, they were ignoring the past twenty minutes, and Artie wasn't going to ruin that. "Of course, it won't be so much "playing" on my part, as it'll be coasting to endless victory," he said with a smirk. Sam handed him a controller, giving him the most grateful look he'd ever received… so grateful, it almost scared him. What had he got into?

"As if. I put up a mean fight," he answered haughtily, and Artie let himself laugh a bit.

"Pssh. Please. Don't flatter yourself," he said, and Sam smiled for a second, just a second, and then he was staring stony-faced at the screen. They played until the clock read 2:00am, keeping the noise to a minimum as not to wake the owners of the house, and the Wii, and the game… Cause that would only sort have be rude…

_Until I asked if you would stay up 'til four, you said, "That's fine."_

All this not really talking was kind of eating Artie up a bit. Sam had kind of freaked him out a bit, and merely throwing some trash talk about as they beat each other up Mario Kart style wasn't really resolving any of that panic he felt. He felt questions bubbling up in him until eventually _something_ had to burst out.

"Are you good staying up late?" he found himself asking without really thinking. It just sort of came out without his truly forming it in his head. Sam nodded, his jaw tensing a bit until he paused the game, turning to face Artie a bit.

_But you said there's something "I have to say,_

"I have something to tell you…" he trailed off, not looking Artie in the eye or anywhere remotely near him for that matter. The scrawnier boy waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts and continue, but he never did, just continued to stare at the other side of the room despite his entire body being aimed at him. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion finally catching up with him a bit more than he wanted it to.

"Yeah…?" he prompted, "What is it?" Sam squirmed a bit, looking exceedingly uncomfortable under Artie's gaze. He eventually let out a long sigh, eyes welling with tears that he clearly wasn't willing to let fall.

_And I can't because I'm just so afraid."_

"I can't tell you…" he said slowly, and Artie tried to bite back his frustration. It was so late that it was tomorrow, he was tired, he had practically just had a heart attack, and he really, _really_ could use some answers right about now.

"Why not?" he asked, frustrated, and once again, Sam squirmed. This time, Artie wasn't so patient in awaiting his answer, tapping his hand against the arm of his chair in substitute for his foot. However, when Sam looked up at him, he regretted it.

Because there were a lot of emotions floating over Sam's face, and none of them were good.

"I… I'm just scared," he said, sounding a bit more broken then any guy would admit to sounding. He looked young, his whole demeanor shifting with his newfound vulnerability. Artie was admittedly unnerved, but he placed a hand on the other boy's knee, hoping it wasn't too touchy feely for him, but even if it was, what else was he supposed to do? Sam looked to be having trouble keeping himself composed at this point, a few stray tears leaking from his eyes. "I'm just so, so scared of what you and everybody will think, and, and…"

_And so, I held you as you started to shake that night._

Sam broke off the end of his phrase in favor of shaking, his body wracking with unvoiced sobs. It was alarming, to say the least. Artie bit his lower lip, not exactly sure what to do with himself, when that little paternal voice every man had sent him wheeling closer to the couch Sam was sitting on. He lifted himself out of the chair, and into the spot next to him. Finally as close as he needed to be, he wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck, and Sam almost immediately slammed around him, silent tears streaming onto Artie's shoulder as he cried.

Artie took a deep breath, rubbing Sam's back as he felt his face nuzzle into the crook of his neck. And… maybe he felt his face heat up a little… and… maybe he was letting himself get a little more worried and anxious about this then he should, but he ignored it cause _holy crap, Sam was crying! On him! In Finn and Kurt's living room! Something is too, too wrong here!_

Artie tried to power through the spazzing his brain was so intent on, instead focusing on the senior in his arms. The sad, angsty, terrified senior who was "just so, so scared". He dipped his face a little into the embrace and held him close, singing softly under his breath-

_Oh my dear, I'll wait for you._

_Grace tonight will pull us through._

_Until the tears have left your eyes,_

_Until the fear can sleep at night,_

_Until the demons that you're scared of disappear inside,_

_Until this guilt begins to crack,_

_And this weight falls from your back,_

_Oh my dear, I'll keep you in my arms tonight-_

_You slowly lifted your head from your hands_

Sam pulled away, quickly burying his face into his hands. "Oh crap, I'm so, so sorry," he told him, voice muffled slightly. At this point, Artie was pretty sure his face resembled one big question mark. What the heck? Sam was being so bipolar. He thought girls were supposed to be the confusing ones!

"Whaddya mean, you're sorry?" he asked, his stomach twisting in a way he didn't particularly like. Ugh, this whole thing was making him so nervous; he couldn't handle it. Come sunrise, he'd probably be tearing out his hair. Sam, meanwhile, looked absolutely miserable as he peaked out from behind his fingers, hands eventually falling into his lap.

_You said, "I just don't think that you'll understand_

"I just… I'm going to _ruin everything, _Artie. Everything. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't… you're going to hate me, you should hate me, so I shouldn't…" Once again, Sam left him to fill in the blanks, and Artie wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He looked at Sam in what he could only assume was a helpless manner, and luckily, the older boy took pity on him. Sam rubbed his hands together and looked at the ground.

_You'll never look at me that way again, if you knew what I did."_

"I've messed everything up. And you're going to hate me, and-" Sam let his eyes flicker up to his face, and he winced, letting them fall again, "you're never going to look at me like that again." Artie grimaced at the obvious and premature defeat in his friend's voice. His hand latched onto the other boy's in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Look like what?" he asked before Sam pulled away from him.

"Like, _that!"_ he said, voice rising, but not enough to wake anybody upstairs. Artie arched an eyebrow, and Sam continued. "Like… you're never going to look at me all happy again. You're not going to look at me like you might actually-" Sam cut himself off, his eyes widening like he had just barely caught himself before saying something he shouldn't. Artie scratched his head, feeling a million different things. He frowned, looking up at Sam, who was watching him with round eyes.

"Okay, Sam, I know you're kind of freaking out, but don't worry, okay? I don't care what it is. You're my homeboy, and I've gotchya. You could tell me you were actually the hologram of a forty-foot giant who lives in the Himalayas, eats nothing but infant skulls and toenail clippings, and enjoys whipping puppies in his free time, and it would be chill bro. We all have our faults and minor idiosyncrasies." Sam laughed a bit, the sound coming naturally before melting into a few stray sobs.

_And so, your tears fell and melted the snow._

Hot tears fell in sheets down the blonde's face, and suddenly, Artie found himself enveloped by him, limbs wrapping around him on all sides and face buried into his already sopping shoulder. He wrapped his far more ropey arms around him in response. He closed his eyes, just letting himself feel, trying to hold him in the best way he knew how. Sam was shaking again, and Artie found himself wishing some things could be as easy as wiping the tears away, instead of having to go through hell like this to make it better.

_You told me secrets nobody had known,_

"Artie, I think I love you."

_But I never loved you more, even though now I knew what you did._

It honestly felt like the world snapped in two. Suddenly, words like "happy" and "sad" weren't enough to explain the whirlwind running through Artie's mind. Cause "happy" to finally know what was eating at Sam wasn't the right way to describe it, and "sad" that he didn't quite know how to respond wasn't good either. He basically felt like one big ball of shock, just some parts were more like "surprise birthday party" shock, and others were more like "btw, your dog just died" shock.

Artie pulled away for a second, eyes searching Sam's, flickering back and forth as he tried to read through the fear the other boy was emoting. Something seemed to knot up in his stomach, and… and then his brain crashed down. No thoughts just emotion flitted through his brain and then -he couldn't tell you why- Artie brought their lips crashing together. It was kind of sloppy, like most non-movie first kisses are, but they sort of beat out a rhythm after a few seconds. Artie pulled away.

"Don't worry," he said quietly in the voice he reserved for his speeches about his chair and heart to hearts with past girlfriends. "I think I'm okay with it." Sam laughed, it sounding very, very wet from crying, but it was a laugh all the same, when a scoff was heard from the staircase.

"I knew it," said an extremely satisfied looking Kurt, who was leaning over the banister just a tidge with an empty water glass in hand. Sam looked back at him sheepishly, running a hand through his dyed hair. The look didn't last long though, because soon he was falling into Artie again, but this time in more of a relieved manner.

_And oh my dear, I'll wait for you_

_Grace tonight will pull us through_

_Until the tears have left your eyes_

_Until the fear can sleep at night_

_Until the demons that you're scared of disappear inside_

_Until this guilt begins to crack_

_And this weight falls from your back_

_Oh my dear, I'll keep you in my arms tonight_

**Hmmm… it's, like, 4 in the morning… And I could actually just write another one right now. Ugh, this is seriously the best thing ever to write to. I wanna make a million. I feel like it's half really open to anything and like… there's so much you could do with it, but it's also kind of closed, so it's controlled, I guess.**

**FEEL FREE TO DO ONE TO THIS SONG OF ANY KIND! Like… I'd actually love it. Just tell me so I can read it!**

**SO AMPED TO DO THIS WITH KLAINE! I'm gonna do BTR first, cause I owe you guys one… but then Klaine. YAY!**


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